


Typewritten

by TheSadisticMunchkin



Series: 30 Days of Hamburr Challenge [22]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 30 Days of Hamburr, 30 Days of Writing, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, But aaron doesn't know that, Caretaking, Established Relationship, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Neglect, Pining, Writer Alexander, self-neglect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-02 19:40:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6579784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSadisticMunchkin/pseuds/TheSadisticMunchkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander hadn’t spoken to him in a week.</p><p>In which Alexander Hamilton is a New York Times Best Selling Author and Aaron Burr makes sure he doesn't die before he submits his next great masterpiece.</p><p>Day 22 of the 30 Days of Hamburr Self-Induced Challenge of 2016</p>
            </blockquote>





	Typewritten

**Author's Note:**

> Yoooooooooooo this fic is the shit. I'm particularly proud of how gay this one is.
> 
> Dedication of the day goes to none other than elysiangrace aka Sage aka my future wife. I hope you enjoy the clueless gays <3

Alexander hadn’t spoken to him in a week.

 

Normally, Aaron would be bouncing off the walls and metaphorically throwing a party in his head because  _ Alexander Hamilton was quiet for more than 20 minutes.  _ During their first few weeks of friendship, that would have definitely been the case. Burr would have already taken out the good wine from the cabinet at the 24-hour mark of Hamilton’s silence. What better way to enjoy the quiet than with a nice glass of red wine and a rerun of  _ Friends?  _

 

His brain happily supplied an alternative:  _ Hamilton’s company.  _ Sure, he was insufferable maybe more than half the time but Hamilton was fun to be around. Burr would never admit it out loud but even if Hamilton were silent, he had this constant energy surrounding him that shocked Burr to the core. It exhilarated him in a way that he couldn’t quite explain. His heart would beat faster, his lungs would try to find more air.

 

He was addicted to Hamilton’s presence.

 

Which was silly, to say the least. Why would he ever enjoy the company of a man who was essentially, with his lack of choice of words,  _ non-stop?  _ Burr was a calculated man who never toed the line. He had deadlines within deadlines, outlines within outlines. His words were crisp and succinct, whereas Hamilton’s were borderline senseless but absolutely intoxicating to read. Burr would take the secret to the grave that he was almost  _ too invested  _ in Hamilton’s life.

 

He was so invested that a week-long silence properly disturbed him. 5 years of knowing Hamilton meant that a silence that stretched this long meant only one thing. It has brought him to the hospital room too many times before. It has worried Burr and made him shiver to his bones. Silence was never right with Hamilton. Silence and Hamilton shouldn’t even be in the same  _ sentence _ because if they were, that meant something drastic.

 

He wasn’t taking care of himself.

 

His movements were almost routine at this point. Yet, his brain constantly asked him  _ why  _ he was doing this. Why did he care so much for Hamilton? Why did he allow himself to worry into the wee hours of the morning just waiting for Hamilton’s phone call to tell him he was okay? Why did he spend so much money on groceries, toiletries, and even sleeping medication on the man who could literally drag  _ himself  _ through the mud?

 

He was out the door before he could answer these questions. He was locking his apartment up and slinging his gym bag over his shoulder before he could even dwell on these thoughts. He was walking up the stairs to Hamilton’s apartment before he could even  _ think  _ for himself. That was his greatest flaw these days. Screw what other people thought; if they wanted more of Hamilton’s work to hit the shelves, he had to be in a proper state of mind to do it.

 

Who better to take care of him anyway? When he found out about this self-destructive habit of Hamilton’s, he would first just pop in with groceries and then leave a hot bowl of soup that the writer barely touched before he came back. There were the rare times when he would force a single sleeping pill into his mouth and make him drink it because his eyes were starting to bulge out of its sockets; and if he didn’t sleep  _ right this instant  _ he was going to implode.

 

There were also the rare times when he would walk in on Hamilton not even writing, just staring at a wall, and trying not to allow the sympathy to eat up his heart at the sight. There were the rare times when he would drape a blanket over his shoulders and carry him to his room with only very little protest from the New York Times Best Author. There were the rare times when Hamilton’s hand would jot out from underneath the sheets and tug Burr’s until he laid next to him, forgotten to the world as he lay perfectly still in Burr’s arms.

 

There were the rare times when  _ Hamilton _ became  _ Alexander _ and Aaron did not have the heart to stop himself from falling.

 

His hand was halfway into knocking on the door when he realized that Hamilton kept a spare key underneath the doormat for him. He wasn’t kidding. The key was labeled specifically  _ for Burr  _ and really, he should be flattered that he even thought of him when he was so lost in the worlds he kept creating in his mind. He slid his foot across the doormat and, just as he expected, the key slid right out with the prominent label  _ For Burr  _ shining in the dim hallway lighting.

 

With a fond smile, he inserted the key into the lock and slowly, very slowly, opened the door to Hamilton’s apartment. He didn’t think anything different was going to happen but he was still slightly disappointed that Hamilton was at his desk furiously typing away at a new novel on his ancient typewriter. Why can’t he use a laptop and google docs like a  _ regular person?  _ Burr paused at the doorframe to watch Hamilton’s fingers fly across the keys as if he was running out of time.

 

Well, he probably was since he only wrote like this when he had a deadline looming over his head.

 

“Hamilton?” He tried calling out but he knew it was a futile attempt the moment he opened his mouth. Hamilton didn’t even acknowledge him, which was perfectly normal. He tried to ignore the way his heart pinched a little in sadness as he placed his bag inside the apartment and closed the door with his foot. “I hope you like ramen, I’m going to try and take a crack at it with this recipe I found online.” Still no answer.

 

Once again, it perfectly normal. Once again, he tried not to let his disappointment show. Once again, he should actually start fixing shit up in the kitchen instead of staring at the little sliver of skin exposed from underneath the t-shirt that’s a little bit too big on him. It took quite a while for Burr to figure out that what Hamilton was wearing was  _ his  _ t-shirt but when did he ever mind if the author would wear his clothing? He did it all the time. He hasn’t even returned his sweater yet.

 

With only the little  _ tippity-tap  _ from Hamilton’s ancient typewriter filling the silence between them, Burr got to work in the kitchen. He was wearing the apron Lafayette gave him for his birthday as a joke because he thought Burr couldn’t cook for shit. Joke’s on him now because 4 years of taking care of Hamilton during the weeks leading up to his deadlines really polished his cooking skills. He looked over his shoulder from washing one of the pots and at Hamilton who was  _ still  _ writing.

 

He should at least get some water in his system. When was the last time he had  _ some  _ form of liquid?

 

A violent cough from the author answered his question and Burr sighed before getting the poor boy a glass of water. He grabbed some antibiotics from his bag for good measure before he went over to Hamilton and wordlessly handed him the water. Automatically, Hamilton’s smaller hand wrapped tightly around the glass of water and he chugged it in 3 seconds flat.  _ Thirsty. _ This boy was so fucking thirsty.

 

He wordlessly gave the glass of water back to Burr before he was once again typing away at whatever world he decided to create next. Burr hoped it was historical fiction again. Hamilton’s strongest suit was making historical figures a little less straight than the textbooks claimed they were. Although some textbooks were very blatant about the fact that  _ some of the Founding Fathers probably fucked each other at some point,  _ Hamilton took it to a whole ‘nother level.

 

Burr decided to distract himself with making dinner for the both of them, it was nearing 7pm after all. He wasn’t quite sure what was the last thing that Hamilton ate but Burr didn’t give a shit. He was going to fill that stomach with food if it was the last thing he would ever do. By 9pm, he was practically garnishing the best fucking bowl of ramen he ever made. Hamilton better eat it all because he was pretty damn proud of it.

 

After he stuffed his  _ Kiss The French  _ apron back into his bag, he placed a gentle hand on Hamilton’s shoulder as to not startle him. He was able to noisily make ramen for the past 2 hours. (He thought he could hand-pull the noodles himself but he was dead wrong.) “Hamilton? Dinner.” He simply said and the author’s fingers paused above the typewriter keys. His hands were shaking slightly but he closed his fists slowly as he calmed.

 

Now, Burr knew Hamilton enough to know what his next actions would be. Usually, he would stand up, stare at Burr with a glazed look in his eyes and sit down at the dinner table. He would wait for him - oddly enough the first time it happened - but Burr got used to it. Soon enough he would be gulping down whatever food he cooked him for the day like it was his last meal before he died. Burr was always prepared for the worst to happen, which was Hamilton suddenly fainting from exhaustion.

 

But  _ nothing  _ could prepare Burr for what happened next.

 

In that split second,  _ Hamilton _ became _ Alexander _ . In that split second, he had only a little bit of consciousness. In that split second, his brain short circuited as Alexander’s lips were on his in a short but meaningful kiss. Well, meaningful to  _ him  _ probably. It only just confused Aaron to no end. He wanted this.  _ For 4 years he’s wanted this.  _ But why wasn’t he kissing back? This wasn’t  _ right.  _ Alexander was out of his mind.

 

_ Alexander. _

 

“Alexander!” He practically screeched when the author finally pulled away. This time, Alexander’s eyes weren’t glazed over or hazy with the lack of sleep. Sure, there were still signs that he was obviously not treating himself well but in this moment he was wide awake. He was staring at Burr in confusion.  _ Staring.  _ He didn’t know why he was staring at him. All of this didn’t make any sense. Oh shit,  _ why was Alexander looking at him like he was a kicked puppy?  _

 

“A-Aaron? Babe, what’s wrong?”  _ Babe?  _

 

“Y-You--” He couldn’t get the words out because Alexander Hamilton just called him  _ babe.  _ When the hell did Alexander  _ ever  _ call him  _ babe?  _ Was he fucking asleep during the apocalypse or did he just miss out on the first time Alexander called him babe? “You just kissed me?” He said it as a question because he  _ needed fucking answers.  _

 

“Um? Yeah, of course, I did? We’ve been together for 4 years?”

 

Burr needed a drink, maybe a hundred.

 

“Whatever gave you the impression that we’re boyfriends?” The confusion on Alexander’s face dropped until his mouth was formed into an understanding ‘o’ shape. Suddenly, he was scratching at the fabric of his t-shirt,  _ Aaron’s t-shirt,  _ and he was looking at every wall in the room. He was looking at anything but Aaron. His lips were trembling and his hands didn’t seem to know where to settle until he decided to wrap them around his impossibly thin torso.

 

“I just thought we were? I mean… You’ve always been there to take care of me when my deadlines are near and well um,  _ shit I fucked up…” _ Alexander must not have been using his voice lately because it betrayed him and cracked at the last second. “I’m sorry, Aaron. Sweetie,  _ shit no um _ , I mean babe,  _ fuck,  _ I’m--” Aaron knew what this was. Alexander was on the verge of having a panic attack and Aaron was the cause.

 

Because he was so goddamn  _ stupid. _

 

“H-Hey, no! Shh, Alex, it’s okay…” He hesitated for a second before wrapping his arms around the shaking frame of the author. He was so small compared to Aaron and he felt like he was holding a wounded animal as his sobs wracked his body. “I didn’t  _ know  _ we were already boyfriends, I mean… Shit man, If you wanted to make it official you should have told me.” Alexander’s sobs subsided to occasional whimpers but soon enough something else was making his body shake uncontrollably.

 

He was  _ laughing. _

 

When his laughter subsided as well, with Burr’s extremely annoyed face making him giggle, Alexander wrapped his arms hesitantly around his neck. “I thought I made it official when I let you sleep next to me.”

 

His face heated up at the memory that happened exactly four years ago. “You were  _ tired,  _ Alexander.”

 

“Still…” His glee deflated a little bit at Aaron’s still confused expression. “I’m sorry, I should have said something in the first place. I didn’t think you would feel obligated to take care of me if we weren’t  _ already _ dating so I just made it official. I thought you felt that too when you kept coming back.  _ Jesus, _ I’m so sorry for not saying anything. I  _ want  _ to be your boyfriend but… Unless  _ you  _ don’t want to be boyfriends then we don’t  _ have _ to be--”

 

“Who said anything about not wanting to be boyfriends?” Aaron asked with an incredulous look.

 

“Um… _you_ just did? After I kissed you?” 

 

“You just caught me by surprise,  _ babe.”  _ Alexander shivered at the sudden change in demeanor and Aaron was now hyper aware of the electricity coursing through his veins as he held Alexander flush against his body. This was why he kept coming back. He fed off of the constant energy that flowed around him and  _ yearned  _ for the way his heart beat faster and his lungs would gasp for air.

 

He was _ addicted _ to Alexander’s presence.

 

Yet he was now even more addicted to Alexander’s  _ touch. _ He was addicted to the curve of his body that fit so perfectly against his. He was addicted to feeling of his hair underneath his fingertips. He was addicted to his energy, his drive, the  _ taste of his lips against his own.  _ At the realization of his own addiction, he captured Alexander’s lips firmly to get that  _ taste  _ again. He was now also addicted to the sound of Alexander’s breath being inhaled sharply through his nose and his hands grasping desperately at his neck.

 

To think he could have done this  _ four years ago.  _

 

He pulled away, afraid that if he kept going he was going to be hooked forever, but with the sight of Alexander, flushed red and lips swollen, he let himself fall hard. His eyes were closed as if he was still processing in his brain what just happened or he was trying to memorize the feeling of getting the breath knocked out of him. If Aaron ended up being the inspiration for one or two of the chapters in Alexander’s new book, he would be able to pinpoint it right away.

 

“Does that mean we’re officially boyfriends now?” Alexander practically whimpered out and Aaron wanted no other sound to escape those sinful lips from now on. He kissed him again in place of an answer and Alexander only moaned against his mouth, which added more fuel to the fire that was starting in the pit of Aaron’s stomach.  _ Boyfriends.  _ He could definitely get used to calling Alexander his boyfriend. As long as he got to kiss him like this, with no restraints, he would be more than happy to call him his boyfriend.

 

The ramen sat cold on the kitchen table the next morning and Alexander pushed his deadline a little bit further than the usual.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos bring me back to life.


End file.
